By The Bay
by TopHatViolet
Summary: Restaurant AU in which Alfred takes a job in a high class Restaurant to pay for his schooling and winds up ever curious about the stuffy British Manager there. Eventual UKUS.
1. Chapter 1

Alfred Jones had been lucky to find a job really, or at least one that didn't involve having to repeat the phrase, 'Would you like fries with that?' constantly. Not that he would have minded that but his friend, Toris, reminded him that Fast Food pay is cheap and College tuition is not.

Therefor, he had ended up here. where exactly was here again? Oh yeah the restaurant 'By The Bay'(quite literally named), owned exclusively by the town's Yacht Club. It was a place that anyone with social climbing ambitions would sue to get into.

So finding himself standing in the kitchen that would have put any and every burger place to shame, with it's shining silver stove tops and white marble counters, was a little exciting.

He beamed at his new surrounding work place wearing an expression of triumph for being hired nearly on the spot. Despite this he couldn't help but feel a tiny knot gnawing at his insides. He'd never been somewhere that seemed so, for utter lack of a better word, perfect. Inside and out of what he had been introduced to was spotless.

He was busy admiring the expensive looking deep blue wallpaper when something was shoved into his hands. Looking down he had been given what appeared to be his uniform by the head chef who had been showing him around.

"Do you want me to put it on?" He asked, thinking later that it had been a stupid question.

"but of course, Dinner starts in an hour and you certainly aren't going around looking like...that." The chef, who had a french accent, gestured at his blue jeans and sneakers then extravagantly pointed towards a room where he could change.

Twenty Minutes later he walked back into the kitchen feeling slightly uncomfortable in a white button up shirt under a neat black waiter's vest, black slacks and a tie. To top it all off, he had a black half apron tied around his waist. His sneakers remained, he had not been given any other shoes so he guessed they would do for now. No one would be looking at his feet anyway.

The first thing he noticed was that the kitchen was occupied by a number of people now. All focused on whatever task they had before them, only a few looked up when he came in.

He spotting the blond Frenchman, who was the only one he knew, giving out order's while stirring something in a big silver bowl. Alfred approached him with a grin on his face ready to do his best.

"Ah, you look much better." The chef said without looking up from his work. "Now, take one of the note pads by the dining room door and get out there. I'm sure taking order's won't be too hard for you, non?"

"Right! Hero on the job!" He said energetically, turning on his heels and heading through the double doors into the dining area. Pad and pen in hand.

What he didn't see was the head chef glancing after him, shaking his head with a small grin on his face as he watched Alfred go.

Taking order was indeed quite easy for the most part. He could flash that charming grin he was known for and people would feel at ease. Even when he was asked to recommend something he could glance down at the menu and retort with whatever item his eyes fell upon. He figured a place this fancy everything had to be tasty right?

Everything was going swimmingly. He was thinking that he could really get used to this, as he was bringing some empty dishes back into the kitchen when a loud shout punctuated his bubble of contentment.

"WHY IS MY BLOODY FLOOR DIRTY!" The shout was accented in a way that was very clearly British. It seemed odd to Alfred, who was still getting used to the head chef's French accent.

He looked at the source of the voice and saw a man facing away from him, bent over inspecting a smudge on the floor. Alfred was caught off guard by his eyes focusing immediately on the man's ass. Mentally face facepalming he forced himself to look away and turned towards his destination of the sink instead.

Distracted by his thoughts Alfred didn't realize that half the kitchen had paused at the voice before quickly returning to their work with double the concentration. Only the head chef had bothered himself to look up with a exasperated expression at the noisy person.

"eh, mon ami, technically it is OUR floor and..." the Frenchman was cut off.

"Francis, this is a respectable business we can't have dirty floors!" the British man snapped ignoring all other comments from the other as his eyes scanned the floor again, settling on a pair of sneakers attached to a teenager he had never seen before.

Alfred looked up just in time to see the man making a beeline for him. He flashed his signature smile, if he had been worried it didn't show.

"You there, you little twit. What gave you the idea you could wear such messy shoes in my restaurant!"

Alfred's grin was cemented to his face, he was at a loss for words and determined not to opening his mouth and blow his job by saying something wrong, because he didn't think a single thing he said would have been a good enough excuse for the steamed Brit.

He was saved by the head chef, Francis was his name apparently, who had seen what was about to occur and rushed after his fellow business partner to grasp him on the shoulders.

"Now, Arthur, I just hired him. It's his first day. He was not aware of your dress codes."

The Englishman named Arthur looked over his shoulder at Francis. "Oh, so this is your fault as usual is it?" He toke a long sigh and looked calmer now. He crossed his arms over his chest before looking back at Alfred as if inspecting him.

"Next time I expect you to have a decent pair of dress shoes, and comb your hair...and for queen's sake straighten your tie boy!"

Alfred grin warmed quite a bit as Arthur turn his attention away to some poor Spanish man who was minding his own business chopping tomatoes.

Later that evening when everyone was leaving, Alfred got stuck with a mop in hand making him one of the last people left in the building.


	2. Chapter 2

When Toris walked into the living room of the apartment the next morning he found a surprise in the form of his roommate Alfred sprawled out on the couch, still in his new work clothes. Toris just grinned and stepped past him for the time being. He'd wake up soon enough.

That soon enough came when Toris turned to coffee pot on in their tiny kitchen.

Alfred's eyes shot open and an electric pulse jumped up his spine at the scent of hot caffeine. He jumped off of the couch and dove for the kitchen. Once he had his coffee cup in hand and filled to the brim, he sighed, sinking himself down into one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table.

Toris was still amused by his roommates morning antics no matter how often they occurred. He sat down at the last empty chair and sat his own glass of juice down in front of him on the table. "So, I suppose it's safe to say that you got that job. Did you have a good first day?"

Alfred grinned, Toris's positive attitude was always welcome after a hectic night, especially one that involved cleaning. "Yeah, it was all right." he replied sipping his coffee and avoiding looking down at his horribly wrinkled uniform. The scrunched up material matched the way his back felt after sleeping on the cheap living room furniture.

For class he had changed out of his uniform, hanging it up in hopes of some gravity de-wrinkling, and put on some comfy cloths. A red, white and blue stripped hoodie and a pair of old worn out jeans.

It was a mistake, he ended up being too comfortable and slept through most of his classes. Head on the desk, he dreamed of serving hamburgers to the school staff.

By the time school ended and he was on his way to the restaurant again, he was fully rested thanks to his naps. He strode as confidently as he could into the restraint. His uniform looking pleasant thanks to Toris ironing it for him during lunch and he had remembered to wear dress shoes, double knotting them for good measure. He had even attempted to beat his messy hair into submission with a comb, but that one spot that always stuck up was unwilling to be conquered despite his efforts.

As soon as he walked into the kitchen he was greeted by a demand," Can you get me some salmon from the freezer, aru?" asked a short man with his long hair tired back behind him who was busy juggling two woks over the stove.

Jeez, he hadn't even gotten a hello before being put to work, but he didn't mind. This was his job after all. Still he didn't think it would be a bad thing to be friendly.

He did as he was told, and whirled his way around the kitchen until he found the freezer. A big steel doorway in the wall with a temperature gage beside it. The door was heavier then it looked, and it looked pretty heavy to begin with. Leaving the door open behind him, he was fascinated. The freezer was like a walk-in closet full of ice. Meat hung from hooks in the ceiling and the shelves where lines with the finest food, all of it obviously fresh, none of that instant stuff he had so much of back home.

He found the salmon on a shelf near the door, looking like it was straight out of the water, only frozen, eyes staring back at him ominously. It kinda gave him the creeps. He decided he preferred not seeing his own food before it was made.

He turned to exit the freezer with an armful of fish only to nearly dropped it all at the person who had snuck up behind him. There he was again, that angry Brit.

"What are you doing? Why aren't you out there taking orders like a good waiter boy?"

Alfred found his grip on the fish loosening, melting ice wasn't the easiest thing to hold onto. "Well, someone asked me for help. Was I supposed to say no?" he asked rather innocently.

Arthur seemed slightly ruffled at his response. He crossed his arms again, it seemed to be a habit of his, though it didn't make him look as manly as he probably thought it did. " I'll overlook it this time."

Arthur continued to stand in his way however, inspecting him for any further faults all the while Alfred's hands were growing frostbite he was sure, as the icy melting of the fish began dripping down his arms. They slipped further down until he was using his knee to keep them in place. He was sure the Englishman was continuing to block his way on purpose now.

"Sir, unless you want your floor messy again..." Alfred trailed off leaving the implications of his statement unspoken.

"Don't you dare drop anything! I'll take it straight out of your paycheck!" At this Arthur turned on his heel and let Alfred go about his business. Just in time too as he hobbled over to the Asian cook who had a basket waiting for him to drop the fish into.

Glad to be relieved of his fishy burden he rubbed his hands on his apron, which was equal soggy at this point and did little to help.

That was when a towel was thrown over his head momentarily blocking his vision. There was a suspiciously french sounding laugh though that he wasn't all that surprised to hear. "Francis? Is that you?" he asked pulling the towel off and cleaning off his hands with it.

"Looks like you needed a hand, Si?"

Ok, that sounded Spanish. Just how many people with accents worked here? He finally turned around and saw the head chef and the worker that was always seemed to have tomatoes in hand. They seemed chummy together, like old pals.

"Good to see you came back, I almost thought our little Arthur scared you off." Francis said patting him on the shoulder.

"He doesn't scare me", Alfred said setting the used towel down on the counter beside him. His hero instincts wouldn't let him admit fear even if that was the case. No, it wasn't fear he felt when Arthur confronted him, but he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was either. He decided not to think about it, after all it was only his second day, Maybe the Brit just didn't like new people.

* * *

Would like to thank everyone for their lovely comments and reviews last time. Especially to one particularly enthusiastic reviewer, DemandTruth. Your comments just made my day~ And you seem to be a bit of a mindreader as well. XD Mattie does indeed show up pretty soon, but I will leave it at that for you to wait and see the specifics for yourself.


End file.
